


Repine

by lyricalsoul



Series: Hiatus [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Granada 'verse - Freeform, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, old stuff re-posted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repine, verb: to be discontented or low in spirits. That about sums it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repine

"It wasn't your fault, John."

 

I brush Mary's hand from my arm. "It was my fault. I should not have left him. I knew there was danger! I knew it!"

 

"You did what you could."

 

Her gentle tone only causes more irritation. "Leave me be, Mary. Please."

 

"I know..." She sighs, and gives me a bittersweet smile. "I know you loved him, John. And he loved you. But you cannot... please, stop torturing yourself. What more could you have done? You searched until you collapsed from sheer exhaustion. You are still suffering. You're sick, tired, and you've had that cough since you returned. I know he would not want you to-"

 

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" I shout, and immediately regret it as she shrinks away from me. "Mary..."

 

"No, John. I... it's been two months now, and you are no better. You drink constantly, you stay out all hours of the night... and when you deign to come home, you are intolerable. You walk the floors with that damnable rug until your feet ache, you sob out in your sleep, and and have not come to our bed in weeks. I cannot live with you in this state. I will take Mrs. Forrester's offer to travel with her family to Cornwall. Perhaps when I return, you'll be... better."

 

"I will never be 'better', Mary. Never. Holmes and I..." I trail off, knowing I cannot tell her that particular truth. "Do as you please."

 

Her hand lashes across my cheek with a resounding smack. "Damn you, John Watson. And damn Sherlock Holmes, too."

 

I watch her go with a heavy heart, but do not stop her. I know there is nothing to be done to salvage the shipwreck of our marriage. The loss of Holmes, whom I freely admit was my soul-mate, has seen to it that I can no longer love her or anyone else. She is hurt and confused, but I cannot bring myself to care enough to set things right.

 

"Damn it!" I push away from the window, and take up my bottle. Scotch, single malt, and exquisite, has become my constant companion. It has the power to take away my pain, my memories, and allow me a night's rest.

 

I pour myself a healthy dose, and settle on the sofa. I wrap Holmes' tattered rug about my shoulders and pray that the liquor does quick work tonight.


End file.
